


train rides and loose ends

by sundazed (orphan_account)



Category: Produce 101 (TV), Wanna One (Band)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Gen, Trains, jealous!ong, subtle minhwan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-10
Updated: 2018-02-10
Packaged: 2019-03-16 03:33:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13627731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/sundazed
Summary: He’s back in your life and he still has you wrapped around his finger.





	train rides and loose ends

You wake up late.

You hurriedly get ready; grab your bag, and a piece of bread from last night's mall excursion before heading out. It's early December, _three years after_ , and you've finally decided to buy a new pair of gloves to replace your old, over-sized red pair. But as you brisk walk past the sea of people just as late as you, you internally smack yourself for forgetting to bring the new ones. So instead, you settle for the ones safely tucked inside your bag.

"Does the universe really not want me to get a move on?" You whisper under your breath as you rub your now-gloved hands together. The walk—or sprint—from the apartment to the train station is quick; a route you've been taking for far too long. You jog up the last flight of stairs, receive a few curses here and there, and try to catch the train that's about to leave.

" _Shit_." You still miss it, and smack yourself again as you slump to the nearest bench to wait for the next one.

It’s there when he sees you: disheveled hair, pink cheeks, bright red gloves. He’s not sure at first, checking twice—thrice—before convincing himself that it really _is_ you. You’re too engrossed in the chocolate croissant you’re eating that you don’t even notice him walk over to you.

“H-Hi,” He stammers out as you take a huge bite of bread. You look up, and his gaze transports you to a different time. “Long time no see.”

It’s been three years since you last saw those eyes. And for three years, you’ve waited for this moment to happen. You’ve made up scenarios in your head far too many times that you expected to handle the situation smoothly, but surprise, surprise: you’re still just an idiot.

He’s finally in front of you, and what do you do? You choke on your fucking croissant. 

_Ce’st la vie._

“Are you okay?!” His right hand automatically goes to your back, patting hard, while the other gets ahold of your own. “Here, stand up.”

Panic now evident in his eyes and voice, he moves behind you, and wraps his arms around your middle. You wish you could revel in the situation, him back-hugging you and all, but you’re too busy dying from the lack of air. And before you know it, he’s doing the Heimlich on you, and the once-glorious piece of French pastry lodged in your throat finally makes an appearance. You take your first breath in what feels like an eternity.

“Are you okay?” He’s in front of you now, both hands on your shoulders, shaking you awake from your almost-death. This whole scene has gathered an audience, and now all you want to do is sink to the ground, and become part of the earth. You’ve always wanted to be part of something _bigger_ anyway, you think.

“I’m fine, Seongwu-oppa,” you say in between coughs, as you try to avoid his gaze, try to ignore the worry in his eyes. _He’s worried like any other person would be, you fool._ No need to let the butterflies lose. “I was just—just really surprised to see you. When did you get back?”

“Last week,” he replies. He looks at the huge board above you, and you realize that his lashes still resemble comet tails. You resist the urge to trace his jaw, still as unbelievably chiseled as ever. He gestures for the both of you to sit down, before finally giving you that warm smile you fell for those many years ago—his three-mole constellation rising along with his left cheek bone. “I think the next train’s going to be late.”

You look up the board too, and feign disgust. You’d really rather miss class than _breakfast_ , anyway.

“So, how have you been?” He says when you finally sit beside him. It’s his turn to study you now, and you wonder how fast blood can rush up one’s cheeks—you mentally note to look it up later. He’s still giving you that smile, that same toothy smile, with eyes so soft that you’re suddenly gasping for air again.

When you don’t say anything back, he snaps his fingers in front of you. “Since when are you this quiet? I don’t remember you being this quiet.” He laughs and you’re jolted awake by the sound. God, how does he still have this much effect on you?

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you finally spit out. “I-I’ve been good. Just still a bit shaken. From the choking.”

“I’m sorry, guess that was my fault.” He bites his lip, and now he’s the one avoiding your gaze. “I just—I’ve been meaning to see you. So when I saw you sitting here, I just had to go over.”

Your eyes grow wide in confusion and your rib cage suddenly feels too small for your lungs. “M-me? Why?” 

“I missed you.”

And the butterflies go wild.

* * *

You were in your sophomore year of high school, and he was a junior when you first noticed him. It was during a dance competition in school and you were in-charge of documenting the whole thing. He was the last to perform, the entire school waiting in anticipation. You’ve always known he’s quite the dancer, always the talk of the town for winning competitions here and there, but that was first time you’re seeing him perform.

As the music from the speakers grows loud, so does the crowd. He’s popping and breakdancing to an American pop song you’re not familiar with, but you bob your head anyway. You position yourself to find his best angle, and take the perfect shot.

Aside from his flawlessly choreographed moves, you realize that he draws the crowd in by communicating with them with his unbelievably captivating face. The crowd is a mixture of teenage boys, girls, and the middle-aged faculty but they all scream in unison. When the song draws to a close and he does his final move, he finally sees you. Your camera is now off your face, hanging by your side, and he smiles right at you. You smile back unconsciously, clap along with the crowd, and admit to yourself that you have a big fat crush on the boy.

He won, obviously. And you watch as people engulf him in hugs and praises. You take a few more pictures for good measure before finally packing up your things and leaving the auditorium. You stop by the vending machine by the entrance for a snack before stepping into the chilly winter air. It’s late at night now, and you walk in hurried steps to catch the last train. Rubbing your hands together furiously, you curse yourself for forgetting to bring gloves.

You’re at the station entrance when you feel a tap on your shoulder. “Here, I have an extra pair.”

It’s him, you realize. Ong Seongwoo, the star of the night, and the new center of your admiration. He smiles at you again, the same smile he gave you earlier that night onstage, but with tired eyes. Your knees almost buckle and you struggle to get yourself together. You accept the gloves and return his smile.

“Thank you. I keep forgetting to bring mine,” you say as you put them on. They’re a little bigger than your own, but they warm your hands just the same, if not more. “I’ll give them back to you on Monday.”

“The weather’s getting pretty bad these days, you need to keep yourself warm,” he furrows his eyebrows and pouts just a little.

 _Your smile is enough to warm me up_ , you wanted to say but you decide against it and just nod. You walk side by side quietly, and board the train together.

It’s silent and awkward at first, and he’s the one to break the silence. “I’m Ong Seongwoo, by the way,” and he offers his hand. You take it, and he continues, “Not Hong Seongwoo, Gong Seongwoo, or Oh Seongwoo. Ong Seongwoo, araso?” You laugh at the way his lips jut out every time he says _–woo._

“I know,” you say, before telling him your own. “Thanks for the gloves. Again.”

“You get off at the 8th stop too, right?” he asks suddenly and you’re taken off guard. You stumble back a little, and he helps you regain balance. You thank the heavens you’re in a train, and you can jokingly blame the train operator upfront.

You both laugh, reaching out to grab the hand rails. “Yeah, that’s where I get off. How’d you know?”

“I always see you rushing to get on in the morning,” he shrugs. “You’re cute when you do your little happy dance when you make it,” and he says this so nonchalantly that you wonder if he’s flirting with you or if that’s just how he talks with everyone. You choose the latter to avoid heartbreak.

Silence engulfs the both of you the rest of the way. And it was a silence that you didn’t feel the need to fill. When you finally reach your destination, you walk out, and part ways. And that’s how your friendship began. Shared train rides in the morning and at night, exchanging as much stories as the trip could permit. Satisfied with the inside jokes and banter you shared, you never tell him how you feel. You two become good friends, but that’s all you become _—friends_. And you were okay with it. You were okay, until he left without a word.

* * *

Before you could even react, the train finally comes. You start walking towards the platform, but are stopped when you feel his hand grab yours tightly. He’s leading you through the crowd now, only looking ahead, and you’re thankful. Your cheeks have turned red hot and you don’t want try and hide them anymore.

It’s only when you’ve finally settled inside the train, the both of you standing in a corner, that he lets go of your hand.

“Almost lost you there,” he exaggerates a sigh of relief and wipes the non-existent sweat from his forehead. He looks at your hand that’s now wrapped around a hand rail and says, “I see you still have the gloves.”

“Oh. I never got the chance to return them to you,” you point out. “I kept forgetting and you never really asked for them back.”

“You always forget things,” he declares, brows furrowed and head tilted to the side. Three years later, and he still has you wrapped around his finger.

“Never forgot you,” you say jokingly. You bite your lip when his face suddenly becomes serious, but you continue anyway, “You forgot about me, though.”

You avoid his gaze again; shake off the tears that are threatening to come out soon. You don’t know why you suddenly feel like crying, not quite sure if it’s out of sadness or anger. It’s only nine in the morning, you think, definitely way too early for the bundle of emotions swelling inside of you.

He sees the look in your eyes, and finally taps on your shoulder. “Hey, that’s not true.”

“But it is. You never even told me you were leaving, you jerk,” you try to fake a laugh and playfully punch his shoulder, but you miss and lose your balance. He grabs your arm and helps you find your footing before looking you dead in the eye.

“I never forgot about you.” The intensity in his eyes makes your stomach sink. You’ve always been an adrenaline junkie for this exact feeling, but today, it just makes you feel woozy. Your legs suddenly feel like jelly and your nerves are in a frenzy. You try to release your arm from his hold, but he doesn’t budge. “I didn’t tell you I was leaving because I was... scared.”

He sighs at the last word and loosens his grip on you. You say nothing, and wait for him to continue.

“I wanted to tell you. It was a few weeks after we met that I realized it. But by then, you’d been hanging out a lot with that tall guy in the student council.” He sees the question in your eyes before you even say it. “You know, the one with the fox eyes.”

Fox eyes. Only one person comes into mind. “Hwang Minhyun? What about him?”

He fiddles with the buttons on his coat before carefully asking, “Didn’t you used to date him? Or are you still with him?”

You don’t know what catches you off guard more: Seongwu thinking you dated Hwang Minhyun or Seongwu actually caring about your (non-existent) love life in high school. You feel your ears redden.

“Oh, no, we were just friends. He was just helping me out with a few classes. My mom’s friends with his mom, and they thought that instead of hiring a tutor, him teaching me would be a better and cheaper option,” you clarify.

“You texted with him all the time, though,” he insists. “I remember you smiling from ear-to-ear whenever you get a message from him on our way home.”

“Ha! That. He liked this boy from my class—Kim Jaehwan, you know him, right?” He nods, scrunching his nose a little trying to remember him. “Well,  he was too chicken to talk to him in person, so I gave him his number and as it turns out, Jaehwan’s crazy about him, too.”

You smile unconsciously as you recall the memory: Minhyun breaking the news to you, asking you what he should do. You especially remember how he’s the first boy Minhyun actually dated for real, not just a texting relationship.

His face suddenly lights up, and you feel blood creep up on your face. It only lasts for a moment before his eyes fixate on the ground again. “I never told you how I felt because I thought you liked someone else. And I never told you I was leaving because I wanted to forget about those feelings.”

He looks up, ever so slightly, before taking your hand that’s wrapped around the railing. He pinches your palm, like he’s still convincing himself that you’re there, before locking his eyes with yours. “I hate that this is three years late, and I wasted so much time sulking over nothing. But I’m telling you this now: I liked you.” Another pinch. “I _like_ you. Very much.”

And the butterflies migrate from your stomach to your veins.

Your cheeks and Seongwu’s now match your gloves—fiery red. You smile at him like an idiot, he does the same. He tells you he likes you, you say, “I like you, too, you idiot. I don’t understand how you never noticed.”

He lets go of your hand suddenly, and frustrated, he says, “Why didn’t you just tell me?!”

Without a beat, you counter, “Why didn’t _you_ just tell _me_?!”

Defeated, he says, “I’m an idiot.” He takes your hands and makes you cup his cheeks with them. You gently graze your thumb on the stars on his cheeks and he gives you a pout, paired with the saddest puppy dog eyes. “We could’ve been together all this time.”

You pretend to cringe at his sudden aegyo explosion but you fight the urge to actually kiss him. So you wrap your arms around him instead. You breathe him in and a mixture of detergent and musky cologne dances on your nose.

“That’s okay. We can be together now.” Your voice comes out more muffled than you expected but he understands you anyway.

“Are you asking me to be your boyfriend?” he sings and swings you around slightly.

You squirm from his hold and when you successfully do, you turn your back on him and say coldly, “The moment is over. I need to get off soon.”

And it’s only then that you remember that there are people watching the both of you. Before you can turn around in embarrassment, he’s already hugging you from behind, his face resting on the crook of your neck. “I’ve waited three long years for this. I’m not letting you go now.”

You’ve never been a fan of public display of affection—you always cringe at the sight of lovey dovey couples—but being wrapped in his arms felt so good, not even your past self could stop you. The both of you stay like that till you get to your destination, a mess of arms and frenzied hearts. 

Once the conductor announces your arrival at the station, you walk hand in hand towards the train door. While waiting for the train to fully stop, he takes both your hands and takes off your gloves.

“Are you crazy? I’ll freeze to death!” You protest, and try to take them back but he only swats your hands away and puts the gloves in his pocket. He pulls out a fresh new pair from another pocket and carefully places each one on your hands.

He then intertwines your fingers with his, lifts both your hands up and finally, he announces, “See? A perfect fit.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first published wanna one fic pls take care of me


End file.
